Comment!fic: NC17; JDM/SF, CK/SF, JA/SF, CMM/SB; CW RPF; het
All written as part of comment_fic.
for amara_m
Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Samantha Ferris, smoky
Jeff loves the way Samantha tastes on his tongue. Dark and smoky and forbidden.
Oh, he loves the way she feels beneath him, against him, when they're fucking. And he loves the way she smells after a long day on set or fresh from the shower. He loves to listen to her talk and laugh and moan when he's deep inside her.
Most of all, he loves that taste. Loves the way it trips along his tongue, drowns him in its richness.
But he especially loves the way she tastes right now, when she's wet and begging for him as he drops to his knees to bury his face between her thighs, tongue sliding over slick folds as he seeks her center, and her legs are trembling with the effort of holding herself upright.
for meredevachon
Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Samantha Ferris, impatient
"Now," she growled, and buttons flew as she ripped open his shirt.
He smiled, shoved her up on the counter as he reached for her skirt. It was no effort at all to push the flimsy material up around her hips, and his smile turned dark and wicked. "No underwear," he murmured, yanking open his jeans and pushing inside her with one hard thrust. "You nasty girl."
"Shut up and fuck me," she said, nails digging into his chest, his shoulders, as she bucked against him.
"Pushy bitch," he muttered, teeth raking along her throat as his hips snapped against hers, pounding into her with relentless force.
"Damn right," she replied, breathless, already gasping as she locked her legs around his waist. "And don't you forget it."
for tigerpinky
Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Samantha Ferris, high heels
Jeff is a firm believer that every woman should own a pair of heels. Not the chunky ones, and not the ones that lift them an inch or so and pretend to be heels.
No, they need to be high. Three inches is alright, but four or more? Yeah, that's what he's talking about. The heels have to be slender and sharp, too. And black.
Four inch, black patent stilettos get him going every time.
That's why it's no surprise that his cock gets hard when he walks into the bedroom and sees Samantha there. She's naked and wet, splayed out on his bed, fingers buried deep in her pussy, and the high heels of her black pumps dig into the sheets as she writhes and grinds. He can see moisture sparkling in dark curls, practically dripping from her as her fingers plunge in and out and her thumb circles her clit. He watches as she brings herself to orgasm, then strips off his clothes and crawls onto the bed.
Her muscles are still trembling when he pushes her legs up, hands tight behind her knees, and enters her with no warning. She just smiles up at him and arches her foot so patent leather gleams in the sunlight.
for badfalcon
Jensen Ackles/Samantha Ferris, stockings
She feels a little silly standing there, wearing nothing but a garter belt, stockings, high heels, and a smile. But if the way Jensen is watching her is any indication, she looks anything but silly.
"Nice," he murmurs, reaching out to slide a palm up the outside of one stocking-clad thigh. His hand follows the curve of lean muscle around to the front, fingers flexing, seeking, delving briefly into damp curls. It's a light, not quite there touch, but it's enough to have her thighs trembling in anticipation.
He pulls her closer, closer, hands curving around the back of her thighs, slipsliding over black nylon, opening her up as he leans forward to nuzzle at her heat. She has to rest a hand on his shoulder to maintain her balance, because the sensation of his breath wafting over her clit sends shivers up her spine.
Jensen just chuckles and pulls her down to straddle his lap. At some point when she wasn't looking, he unfastened his jeans and pulled his cock free, so she impales herself as she sinks down. "You've got beautiful legs," he whispers, hips flexing, thrusting deeper into her until a gasp spills from her lips.
"Should keep you like this," he tells her, licking the words along her throat, fucking her nice and slow as his hands slide up and down her thighs, and she thinks she might let him as long as he doesn't stop what he's doing.
for amara_m
Christian Kane/Samantha Ferris, rule #7
"Ah, ah, ah," she murmured, and grasped his wrists tight.
"But..."
"No." With a firm grip, she pulled his hands over his head again, curled his fingers around the slats in the headboard. "Those stay there."
"C'mon..."
"No," she repeated, and rolled her hips. The movement had him arching, gasping, and there was a faint cracking as his hands tightened on the wood.
"Sam," he groaned, head back, eyes closed, struggling for control as she rode him slowly. Each time she sank down on his cock tested his will power until he was ready to beg.
"No," she whispered, bending to lick a long stripe up the side of his neck, muscles tightening around him as she rocked.
"Please?"
She just shook her head and smiled. "House rules," she said, and chuckled when he growled at her.
for amara_m
Christian Kane/Samantha Ferris, shots
It had started out as a friendly bet, and Christian had expected it to end fast.
Instead, Samantha had matched him drink for drink, slamming the shot glass to the table each time. Every bang of glass against the table earned him a smirk from her. Clearly, this wasn't going to end as he'd expected.
When she stood up and started to take off her clothes, he realized he didn't give a damn that his expectations had been shattered half a bottle ago.
When she came around the table to perch on the edge of it, one foot propped on his chair beside his thigh, Christian's cock hardened almost painfully.
When she picked up first her glass and then his, holding them over her breasts for a second before tilting them, he sucked in his breath. His eyes tracked the amber liquid as it slid over smooth, creamy skin and trickled down into crisp curls that were already damp.
Christian just smiled, eyes reverent as he leaned forward and pushed her thighs open, tongue darting out for his first taste of whiskey-soaked Samantha.
for monica_catch22
Chad Michael Murray/Sophia Bush, bitch
Did you enjoy it?
What's that?
Him fucking you.
Ah... why do you want to know?
Just answer the question.
Maybe.
Coward.
Okay, fine, I enjoyed it.
Thought so.
What... are you... oh, shit...
The strap-on had been enormous, and Chad had protested, but Sophia insisted. After all, she said, it was only fair. Which didn't make much sense to him, but he'd never been able to tell her no. Though he'd managed to hold out until she grabbed his hair tight and pulled him to his knees in front of her. Before it was over, he was bent over the back of the sofa while she fucked him as the video camera captured every whimper and groan.